


A Lotus Blossom

by xobrandyxo123



Category: Mulan (1998)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/M, Mild Language, Minor Violence, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-06 10:49:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1855327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xobrandyxo123/pseuds/xobrandyxo123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: An arranged marriage between a highly bred Mulan, and a roughly raised Shang.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Fa Zhou paced back and forth impatiently about the door of his wife's room. He could hear her pained gasps, and the nurse's sweet words of reassurance, but he cared not for the woman, and was restless to see his heir.

His first wife had been a soft blossom of a woman, small and slender, and as beautiful as an almond flower. But as beautiful as she was, she was unable to birth him any children, and she fell out of his favor.

He then took it upon himself to take a second wife, despite his first wife's cries of despair, and promises of consumption if he would still have her. Still taken by hair fair face, and small feet, he obliged. Though to no avail, as years went by and her body had yet to swell.

Growing older, and still having no son, he married a farmer's daughter. Beauty she wasn't, with big hands and feet, and a large body. But her hips were wide, and she was from a family of eight, all sons, excluding her.Ignoring her lack of fairness, he moved her into his house, and was pleased that she endured his first wife's torment towards her. He cared little for such matters; fore he now had a woman to pleasure himself with, and one to breed his brood.

Sure enough her already large body grew, and he himself grew feverish with anticipation, lavishing her with gold jewelry, and sweet food. Then, nine months later, he heard a cry from her bedroom, and he all but ran towards the sound.

Throwing the door open, and ignoring the servants about, he looked to see a bundle in her thick arms. "Have you given me a son, or a slave?"

Her face was wet from effort, and her gown still bloodied, but he paid her little heed except for her answer. Softly, she rasped, "A son."

Delighted, he fetched the bundle from her arms, but upon looking at the child, his face fell. Despite his mother having fed richly while carrying him, he was but a slight bird. His hair was in patches, and his skin was sickly yellow, and he knew that he was not made for this world.

Angrily, he threw the child back onto the bed, causing the retched thing to wail piercingly. "That is not a son! But a weak bird! Why must I be cursed with such useless women?"

Huffing, he turned towards a servant, and pushed her roughly in the direction of the screaming baby. "I will not waste my money feeding a dead mouth! Put it out of its misery!"

And so it was done.

Desperate, he took both women relentlessly, finding no joy in doing so. A son he must have, and son he would get.

But years passed and neither conceived.

Nearing forty, and with not a single child in sight, he took a final wife.

She was neither young nor old, ugly nor fair; she was average in every way. But she was a good woman, doing what others didn't, respecting his wishes, and doing what a woman of her standing should.

Finally, when he came to terms that he was cursed, she spoke to him smoothly and said. "I am with child."

Spirits raised, he prayed to the gods for the forgiveness of his sins.

Now here he was, ears glued to his third wife's door, breath held. Finally his wife shrieked, and a younger, stronger wail joined her.

Hurriedly he entered the door, briefly glancing at his exhausted and heavily bleeding wife. "Where is the child? Or have I gotten another bird?" He asked anxiously.

She lay panting, her bed sheets growing more soiled by the second. "A daughter."

He froze, and hot blazing anger tore through his veins. After all this time, all he would have was a slave?

His face pinched, and she smoothed it carefully. "Fret not, dear husband. Go for yourself and see the babe, for she has more worth than five sons put together."

Nostrils flaring, he did as she bid him, and made grab for the child sitting loosely in her arms. Grabbing her none to gently, he noticed instantly that she was tiny, but healthy, unlike the first boy.

Glancing at her face, the fire in his veins cooled. Upon her fey like face were two large onyx eyes, staring up at his curiously. He himself was brown from days out in the sun, while the babe's mother's was yellow, but the gods had graciously gifted her with pale lotus skin. Slowly, he ran his course fingers through her thick, black mane, and he smiled, pleased.

"She will be my little token." He promised, kissing her forehead gently.

"Dear husband," panted the babe's still rapidly bleeding mother. "The Gods gift, and they steel, and I fear that they will have stolen my life for the girl's at dawn. I ask of you, but one favor."

Pleased with the woman for the child that none others had gifted him, he promised, "Anything."

Sweating, her eyes blurring in and out of focus, she asked." Name her Mulan."

And with that, she died, and the baby Mulan cried.

Later, when the second wife learned of how a slave won her masters heart, she too, died of despair.

Now though, with the pale flower in his arms, he cried out for his first blossom to come bid him. She did so faithfully, though he had not called for her in favor for years. Glancing up, his eyes once again took in the great beauty of his first wife that hadn't called to him since he found her barren. Now however, with a child secure in his arms, he felt desire for her once more.

"Come, and see your new child."

Her painted eyes widened, before glancing at him wearily. "Mine?" She questioned her voice still soft and seductive.

Beckoning her closer, he placed the small babe in her arms. "She needs a mother, does she not? And you are the only wife I have left. It is unfit for me to raise her when women are about. She is a prize, and needs to be bred as highly as you have been. Make her yours, pamper her, paint her, I care not. For we will lie, and say she is yours."

She nodded quickly, delighted. "Of course, of course!" She spoke, highly pleased that she was back in her husband's favor, and now had a precious baby too.

"She will want of nothing her entire life!"

And so she didn't.

Mulan grew more beautiful each year, and her mother was greedy of her. For without her, her husband might've taken more mistresses, and once her beauty faded, she would've been forgotten entirely.

She marveled at the babes features, and forbade her from leaving the house. "You will be married to a rich man Mulan, and rich men want soft, pale skin."

And so Mulan never entered out into the sun.

She ran her fingers through the young girl's shiny, long hair. Scolding the child if it wasn't properly cared for. "You will be married to a rich man Mulan, and rich men want sweet smelling hair."

So combs ran through the maid's hair multiple times a day, along with the scent of sweet Jasmine oil.

She had the girls feet bound, ignoring the cries she admitted. "Do you think your husband would want a woman with large feet?"

And so Mulan cried no more, and took short, graceful steps.

By the time she was sixteen, Mulan looked like a goddess in the flesh.

She had a lean, feminine body, covered by almond smelling white skin. Her black hair reached her back seamlessly, filled with gold and silver pins. Her feet were no more than a hands length long, and covered in silk slippers, accompanied by a rich gown. Her face though, is was captured the eyes the most. Powdered flawlessly every day, she had two rosy spots on her cheeks, smartly drawn on brows, smooth colored eyes, and red rosebud lips.

"You are perfect!" Her mother exclaimed, and Mulan swam in the compliment, for all was well when mother was happy.

"It is time for you to be married." Then all was well no more.

But she spoke of nothing, and smiled prettily at her mother." Of course mother, an honorable bride I will be."

Naturally, her parents searched for the richest man available, uncaring of age, or previous wives or children. For their eyes could only see richness.

Finally, they heard that an old general, who lived in a large house, with countless jewels and treasures had a son looking for a wife, and they seized the opportunity.

Walking to the gate, they were met with a guard who scoffed at their idea. "You think you are the only one who wants their daughter to marry into the great family?"

And so they bristled, and responded, " No, we are the only one who has a daughter that will marry into the family."

But he still wouldn't let them pass, so they gave him the most recently drawn portrait of Mulan, and told him to at least show it to the man of the house.

And they left.

Then days later, they were beckoned back to the courts as guest, and the old general, highly impressed with Mulan, and wanting nothing but the best for his strapping son, made a betrothal between the two.

"They shall be married in 2 months!"

And so two months later the two strangers would wed.

On her wedding day, Mulan's mother fretted over her more than usual. Starting even before the sun rose, Mulan was forced to prepare for her husband to be.

Her body was scrubbed and washed, rubbed with sweet smelling oils. Her neatly groomed fingernails painted. The long mane of hers was styled traditionally on top of her head, and pinned with jewels.

Her face was made even paler, then painted perfectly. Finally, she put on her wedding robes, and silk slippers, and none more could be done.

"He will be like a dog in heat when he spots you! Don't expect any sleep from now on daughter!" Her mother chuckled merrily, oblivious to Mulan's heated face under her thick makeup.

Finally, she was called forth for the ceremony, as it was uncustomary for the groom to see her beforehand, and she kept her head bowed respectfully, and she stood next to him, and they were joined.

Mulan was uncertain of how her husband would like her, but was pleased when she caught him glancing at her from the corner of her eyes multiple times.

He reached for her hand, and dutifully, she allowed it. Fore her body was his, and any permission he asked of it would be out of good humor, not necessity. Once clasped, she could not withhold a flinch, and averted her lilac painted eyes. Her small unblemished hands were unused to his much larger, calloused ones, and she twisted her lips wearily. Fore such roughness was unfamiliar to her, and she was fretful of them scratching the smoothness away of her own.

Catching her displeasure, he frowned thoughtfully, but spoke nothing of the matter.

When it was time for feasting, Mulan sat daintily beside her new husband, and took in all the wonderfully prepared food. Her nose appreciated the smells, but she knew her body wouldn't. Her mother always told her that her figure was precious, and easily keen to weight gain. "What handsome young man wants a fat woman? When he could have whomever he chooses?" Her mother reprimanded.

Carefully, she ate little of what the servants handed her. Chewing slowly, as her mother taught her, and tricking her stomach cleverly, to cease its growling. Once again her husband watched her, but said nothing.

Near the end of the feast, Mulan realized her husband had yet to speak to her, save the marriage vows, and she grew worried. Where the looks he sent her out of disgust? Had she already displeased him? If he takes a mistress before even a week of marriage her family will be laughed at!

Unwillingly her eyes watered in fright, and she struggled to keep them at bay. Feeling a hand grasp hers under the table, she flinched violently, calming once more when she recognized the roughness, and she smiled prettily at her husband.

His handsome eyes searched hers worriedly. "Tell me what is troubling you Mulan." He demanded.

She rubbed her smooth hands over his, and watched his form melt. "Nothing lord husband, the smells are just stinging my eyes is all." She lied smoothly.

His eyes searched hers again, before he nodded reluctantly, engaging in conversation with his neighbor. Mulan too fraternized.

Finally, after the feast had ended, and once she bowed respectfully towards her elders, a pock marked servant girl led her away to their wedding chamber.

The room was beautiful upon entering, and if she herself hadn't been raised so highly, she might've even gasped. All red, it was a sight to behold, and in the center stood a large bed. She blushed deeply, and when glancing in a nearby mirror, she was pleased that her thick makeup hid her flush.

She knew not when her husband would arrive, but knew he would. Fore he at least had to consummate the marriage, even if it was the only time he touched her. Looking back in the mirror, she saw a beautiful girl standing in front of it, and knew not as to why she must've repulsed him so.

She sighed wistfully, but cheered when she saw perfumes and oils sitting perch on top a dresser. Rubbing some almond oil between her palms, she resigned that even if she looked like a sow, she would smell heavenly.

He came to her then, when she was sitting in front of the richly decorated mirror, and inspecting her reflection. He looked disappointed, and she sighed softly once more, lest he hear her, and displease him further.

She stood as was customary, and bowed before him. While she knew him to be handsome, she had yet to really inspect his body. Fore he was tall and broad, tan and rough as her father had been. She knew that maids must've been falling around him wherever he went, and how they probably pleased him.

He took a step closer to her, and she felt even more as a child. With her small features, and slender body, she was but a slight figure to him. Perhaps he liked woman more robust, she thought sadly.

"I have noticed that you don't speak much." He commented, still standing across from her.

"I am not clever with words, fore what the gods gifted me with beauty, they withheld in speech. "She recited, remembering the sentence as her mother had claimed to her time, and time again. He frowned again, and she too frowned, fore now he had not only an ugly wife, but a stupid one as well.

"You speak well enough to me." He said firmly, and that was that.

With that he slid off his robes, reveling a well-muscled body, tan as the rest of him, and filled with scars. She frowned once more, wondering as to how one could be accustomed to so many blemishes, she couldn't bear the thought of it.

He caught her eyes and smiled wistfully. "Does my body not appease you my lady?"

She bowed her head again in submission, as she realized she insulted her new lord. "Your body is fit for any woman my lord." She whispered softly.

He walked closer to her then, and tilted her chin up. "None of that now, displease me you haven't."

She could feel his hot breath against her, and leaning in, he smelled the perfumes behind her ears. "You truly are a Gem." He whispered, and her stomach fluttered pliantly. Perhaps she wasn't as off putting to him as she thought.

She said nothing of that, nor did she speak when he untied her robe, letting it fall down her body, gathering in a silk pile at her feet. His eyes roamed her body hungrily, but she knew not what to do. He hardly minded though.

His hands searched her body feverishly, and she gasped as he trailed hot kisses down her body. Leading her down unto the bed he asked, "Why do you flinch when I reach for you?" Though she wondered if he cared when said rough hands pawed at her breast.

Panting more heavily, she answered, troubled. "I am not accustomed to a man's roughness. I know only the soft hands of the maidens who bathe me."

He grew more eager then, pleased at her answer." Then I will teach you." He promised.

And so he taught.


	2. Chapter 2

Upon awakening, Mulan felt a sharp pain in her lower midsection and withheld a cry. Hesitantly lowering the silk sheets that masked her naked form, she blushed in mortification upon spotting both blood and seed mixed together onto her inner thighs.

“Are you in pain, my lady?” The warm concerned tone of her new husband asked gently, causing Mulan to startle out of her musings.

Glancing quickly at her masters’ downturned face, Mulan withheld the urge to raise the discarded sheets around her bare breasts once more. A new feeling coiled into her stomach, one of anxiety and fear, and the black haired beauty wished to have slept longer in order to ignore his inquiring’s. Confused at his presence, Mulan wondered as to why he was still lying next to her. Her mother had informed her that after the bedding had taken place, he would leave her, thus letting the servants assemble her appearance once more.

Now however, she was before him dirty and unkempt, and she feared his opinion of her in this slightly disheveled state.

‘’Hardly my lord, simply sore is all,” she managed, hoping to keep the tremor out of her voice.

Not sure if she succeeded, Mulan was weary when he cusped her small hands between his, kissing each one as though precious.

He smiled at her then, and the newly married girl felt some of her nerves dissipate. Perhaps her new husband was kinder that she had thought, nothing like the forceful man her mother made him out to be.

“I will send some slaves to assist you to a bath, surely that will ease some of your discomfort,” he reasoned, stepping out of bed and dressing himself at her hesitant nod.

Once his form left, it was but a few short moments until some servants came to join her, slowly maneuvering her aching body out of the bed, and into an attached bathing room. However, before her worn body could enter into the blissful water, one of the slaves quietly informed her that they must take back proof of the consumption. Troubled, Mulan winced as fresh loin cloths were rubbed against her tender mound, exiting in a soiled mess of a darkened red and milky white. Seemingly satisfied at the revelation, said woman bowed before departing, leaving the remaining two girls to lead her into the water.

As expected, the water was rightfully cool, engulfing Mulan in a wave of comfort. She watched somewhat adamantly as it washed away last night’s memories, leaving behind smooth pale skin once more. Almond eyes closing, Mulan felt the remnants of the day’s morning tension leave her body, lulling her into a dreamlike state. Unfortunately, these courts women weren’t nearly as comely as the ones back home, and the young girl bristled as their calloused hands were unforgiving on her more sensitive regions.

Nevertheless, Mulan felt refreshed from the beauty treatment, a small smile dancing across her lovely face. Sighing contentedly, the youthful wife stood obediently as oil soaked cloths were wrapped around her dripping form, her soft skin enjoying the richly scented moisturizers.

Intending to relax as the oils soaked in, Mulan was surprised to hear a soft muttering of giggles. Brows furrowed at the intrusion, she watched as a series of women, dressed richly and made up heavily, entered the bathing room, discarding their robes and slipping happily into the water. Silently wondering who these odd women were, her main servant, a woman of a thick build and heavy jaw answered her unaired inquiries. “They are the generals’ women.”

Head cocked, Mulan moved a wet strand of ebony hair out of her vision. “Women?” She mused, not entirely understanding.

“Whores.” Her thick companion answered bluntly, causing the young girl to blush and avert her eyes.

While not expecting to be the sole lady of the house, after all, her husband’s mother was still alive, she did not expect for whores to be strewn about, seemingly careless of their roles. The women in turn where whispering amongst themselves, giggling behind their hands as their eyes searched her small form. Frowning, Mulan tried vainly to remind herself that she was a woman of title, while they were merely pleasure girls, though the effort was fruitless.

“You are Shang’s new wife?” A particularly bold one asked, narrowing her heavily painted eyes in her direction. Swallowing, Mulan’s tongue felt heavy in her mouth.

“Yes,” she ground out, hoping to put some steal to her words.

Her answer seemingly ignored, she watched as the clever women giggled girlishly once more, and couldn’t help but to think that they were intending to try to act much younger than they were. Fore despite their beauty, thick makeup seeped into the crevices of their faces, and lined eyes hooded on their own accord. It seemed as though age was not to show its face here.

“Are you with child?” The whore asked suddenly, sweeping her eyes up and down Mulan’s slim form and concave stomach. This in turn caused the nervous beauty to place a hand above her navel self-consciously; surely said woman could see that no child had yet to inhabit her womb?

“I have been married but a night; no babe resides in me yet.” After all, her mother had confessed to her that conception was hard, and was sure to take years. _Just stay beautiful, my love._ She would murmur, eyes gleaming wickedly. _And you will have nothing to fear._

Her confession was met with a sharp smile, one that offset the rest of her delicate features and in turn caused the whore to look nothing more than a predator. Mulan secretly thought she fit the role nicely, with her sharp mouth and nails completing the look. Her scrambled thoughts were broken however; when she felt the thick warm hands of her counterpart rest upon her slim shoulders consolingly, causing the distraught girl to glance sorrowfully into the worn homely face of her servant once more.

“Do not trouble yourself over them girl, fore they have but a few years left in them. Allow them to reside in their fools’ paradise, if only to ease yourself of the distress.” She muttered, flat brown eyes glancing distastefully over their figures.

Nodding mutely, the almond eyed beauty was consoled to the fact that she had a least one companion, even if said companion was but a slave. Whispering softly, she spoke, “I may not be of the wisest of stock, but I am sure I have done nothing to slight them in the least.”

Clucking, the elderly woman removed the now dry towels from Mulan’s body, and in turn wrapped her bare skin in a silken lavender robe. Allowing her silence once more, she started wrapping the fair maidens’ hair, only speaking when the ebony locks where styled sufficiently. “My lady, it is your presence that slights them. With you here, Master Shang will be unlikely to come to them anymore.”

Shocked, Mulan felt her body go rigid. “Surely he hasn’t visited all of them.” After all, there was more than several bathing currently, and surely to be more roaming around the courts.

“No,” the woman agreed, “Not all of them. Some are the General’s sole mistresses. But many, oh so very many. You see, they wish to grow heavy with child. If they were to bear one of the masters a son, they would have to be given an official title in the family.”

“What kind of title?”

“Not one of any importance,” she dismissed, “But one that would allow her to be entitled to some of the family’s fortune.”

“And have any women bore sons as of yet?”

“I believe most to be barren.” The slave confessed, stopping her speech momentarily in order to apply some of Mulan’s face makeup. “However, a few a have been pregnant in the past, only to have given birth to slaves.”

Growing uncomfortable, Mulan closed her eyes as lavender powder was applied to her eyelids. “Has Shang fathered any of them?’

Jaw tight, the woman forced her hands to stay still as she lined the girls’ eyes, answering, “I cannot be sure, but I wager them to be the Generals. Shang has only very recently started seeing them, despite his father’s offers. I believe him to be done just as quickly though, since his eyes seemed to be glued to your form only My Lady.”

Flushing, said beauty muttered a lame “Oh.”

Laughing good heartedly, the woman announced her Lady’s makeup and apparel finished, and escorted her to where Shang was having breakfast.

Lifting his head upon hearing of her arrival, Shang’s face broke out into a bright smile upon spotting her, causing Mulan to let out a demure one of her own. Quickly stepping up off his cushion, he made way towards her small form, and carefully clasped their hands together, grinning when Mulan didn’t flinch as she had done but a night earlier.

Leading her towards a seating place beside his own, his new wife couldn’t help but to notice that both his mother and father were absent. Curious, she voiced her inquiring’s.

“They are both otherwise preoccupied.” He answered vaguely, the last of his previous smile falling off his face. Mulan suspected she knew just what the General was doing, but wondered silently of his mother’s whereabouts. Perhaps she had fallen ill with fever.

“Did you enjoy your bath?” He mused, eyes taking in her made up form once more.

Swallowing a morsel of food, Mulan gently patted her mouth with a napkin before replying. “Certainly, the slave that led me here was very enjoyable company. I wish to see more of her if possible.”

Agreeing easily, he declared that she could have her as a personal slave if she wished.

“I do so wish it. Thank you, My Lord.”

Frowning, he murmured, “We are Husband and Wife, it is suitable for you to address me as Shang.”

Unsettled, but knowing never to displease her husband, Mulan gently rolled his name off her tongue. “Thank you, Shang.”

Met with another blinding smile, Mulan wondered as to how such a simple act could move a man. That was, before she remembered her mother’s musings. _Men are not so complicated my flower, just flash them a smile, accompanied by a giggle, and watch them melt._

And so she did.

\--oOo—

Mulan felt as though marriage was chore.

She knew it was an honor to be married to a man of such a promising title, but upon exiting a home of grandeur, her new life held little in the ways of excitement.

“It is boring here.” She complained childishly to her companion one day, “Surely a court of this size has something to do,” She reasoned.

Said woman looked at her disapprovingly, all the while combing the fair maiden’s long hair. “Do you not enjoy the great fish pond your husband has presented to you? Or the perfume and oils you have been gifted with?”

Huffing, the young beauty winced as a snarl was tugged upon in her hair. “He gives boring gifts. What am I to do with a pond full of fish? Stare at them? Also, he does not buy me _new_ oils, he merely replaces the ones I have already used up,” she countered.

 _So spoiled,_ the servant thought fondly.

“Well then, what would you like?” She humored, rubbing jasmine oil between her palms, and sliding it through the girls’ silken locks.

Thinking mutely, the great beauty struggled to find her heart’s desire. Before deciding suddenly upon a sword. Excitedly, she voiced her new want, only to be met with a loud bark of laughter.

“Yes? And what would a small thing like you do with a sword?”

“Why protect myself of course,” she retorted.

Hair now finished, the gruff woman turned to slide the robe off her lady’s body.

“Milk?” She questioned, before soaking some cloths in warm milk, and rubbing her lady’s body when met with an affirmative nod.

Massaging the substance into Mulan’s already fair skin, she resumed their conversation. “Do not be silly dear, you have a strong husband, the young general is more than capable of protecting you.”

Shrugging, the wanting maiden did not disagree. “Well, what if Shang is the one I need protecting from?” She stated curiously.

Brown eyes looking up, she raised at course eyebrow at the declaration. “I have yet to see Shang perform an unnecessary act of violence on anyone, and I have known him since he was a boy.”

Deciding not to give up, the black haired beauty tried again. “Well maybe I just simply want to know how to use one. I was always infatuated with my fathers, but he never let me touch it,” she pouted.

Rolling her eyes boldly, the exasperated slave made note to pray to the spirits to watch over her young Lady, knowing all too well that she was too curious for her own good.

“May your ancestors watch over you child,” she grieved.

And little to her knowledge, they did.

Fore later that night, a clever dragon charmed his way into being her guardian, swearing to protect her till days end.

And with him, a new era of trouble was born.

 --oOo—

He does not approach her at first, instead taking the time to watch over her from afar, waiting for a chance to intervene.

Except there isn’t one. Fore she had to be the most boring girl he’s ever seen.

‘”I can’t take it! I just can’t take it anymore!” He wails dramatically, placing his small arm over his head as though in despair.

“How can somebody do the same thing every day? She’s so, so, so docile!” He exclaims, glancing over at the cricket he had befriended, hoping to find some sympathy.

A small chattering of chirps answers him, the small critter shrugging his shoulders in an act of bemusement.

“That’s it! I just can’t sit around here anymore doing nothin’! I’m just gonna confront her, you know, have a nice pleasant chat.” After all, she was by herself a lot. Maybe he was here to protect her from… loneliness?

Yeah, that was probably it.

It doesn’t take long for him to find her by herself, as only a short while later she’s resting in her room, having dismissed her servant previously.

Setting all pleasantries aside, he slithers into her room quietly, before making his way up her bed and sliding himself onto her stomach.

“Boo!” He yells, chortling at the shocked expression she made, well, until she started screaming that is. Placing his small hands over her mouth, he glanced at the door worriedly, all the while telling her to “Shush!”

“Dang girl you gotta’ set of lungs, now be quiet!” He demanded, hoping to put an end to her muffled screams, sighing in relief as she abided by him.

“Now, I’m gonna take my hands off, and you’re gonna be quiet, right?”

Shaking her head mutely, the young girl breathed a sigh of relief upon the removal of his hands. Though her scandalized expression was still stuck.

“Now girl, I know your probably wondering who I am, well, I’m your guardian angel, eer dragon,” he explained, flashing her his most charming smile in the hopes of relaxing her.

She sat stunned, gulping loudly before talking. “You’re a dragon, a tiny dragon that talks.”

He clucked his tongue at her, eyeing her distastefully. “Girl, don’t discriminate.”

She held her palm over her face, disbelief coating her body. _I thought that tea earlier tasted off._

“Ok, um guardian dragon, what exactly are you protecting me from?” She mused, pinching herself subtlety, praying for this all to be a dream.

He looked on sheepishly. “Well, I’m not sure yet. But I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”

She glanced over at him again, her mouth suddenly dry. “We?”

“Oh yeah girl, I got your back,” He promised, delighted at having someone new to talk to, and hopefully not be insulted by, unlike some people…

“Ok,” she admonished dryly, “Apparently you know who I am, but who are you?”

Puffing up his chest, he announced proudly,” You can call me the great dragon.”

“The great dragon?” she repeated, eyeing him disbelievingly.

He shrugged, “Or you know, Mushu.”

And thus, a new friendship was born, sort of.


	3. Chapter 3

The Huns invade quickly and ruthlessly, their imposing figures leaving mass chaos and destruction in their wake.

Mulan trembles as her Lord Husband recites the grim tales to her. Shan Yu-the leader, is said to have captured numerous towns in only a number of days. They say he steals all the fortunes, breaking into the high lords and lady’s courts before murdering them.

However, it is not he who frightens Mulan the most, it is his men. Tall and cruel, they are now renowned for taking their fair share of women and girls; pulling them out of the clutches of their family member’s arms, before they are taken violently into the street. Men too they say, have been demeaned and taken as dogs.

Then after they have pillaged through the towns, until they are nothing more than a wisp of cries and mourning, they burn them. Burn them until all that is left is ashes and smoke, and the faint echoing of memories of the few who have survived and lived to tell the tale.

The General and Shang have now forbidden any of the women from leaving the courts, save the most homely of girls- when they have naught but a choice but to go out and buy goods. The prices have now more than tripled, the merchants now too afraid to travel and trade.

Only the rich can afford to eat, the rest of the lowborn apparently starving, even taken to eating rodents in their desperation of hunger. Now most often do they have men banging on their doors, hoping to be able to sell off their daughters to the great family in exchange for some money.

The General is the one who goes about most of these exchanges. He will take no infants, or any pockmarked, dark skinned women. He goes about and purchases the youthful and pretty pale girls, more than happy at being able to buy such comely girls at naught but a few coins, much to his old concubine’s displeasures.

Her Lord Husband has seemingly little interest in the affairs at hand, having made no offer at any slave. He does surprise Mulan though, when he asks if she has seen any girls she would see fit to serve her. Mulan childishly refuses any of the eye catching girls, not wanting any to tempt her  husband into inviting them into his bed. Even though she has yet to see such a girl who is even lovelier than she. 

Vainly, she waves them all off, until a woman in particular catches her eye. And that she is, a woman. The cusps of girlhood are long behind her, although it is clear that her beauty has withstood her during the years. Her hair is long and lovely, her eyes sharp and confidant, and Mulan feels a foreign sensation pool into her stomach.

“Her,” she whispers softly into her husband’s ear. A flicker of surprise flashes across his dark eyes briefly, but he indulges her none the less. He leaves her side as he accepts her offer, much to the General’s astonishment.

“Are you sure about this one, boy? I fear she is older than she looks, and her cunt will most likely fail to hold you anymore,” he states crudely, eyeing the woman in front of Shang with distaste. “Surely you’d rather have a fresh one?” He admonishes, gesturing vaguely to the numerous young girls he has recently acquired.

Shang waves his father’s concerns off. “She is not for pleasure, father. She is to be a slave for my wife,” he states coolly.

The woman in turn, who has not so much as blinked at the General’s vulgar comments, turns her head slightly as she takes notice of Mulan’s presence. Her eyes bore into Mulan’s own, and despite herself, Mulan feels the blood pool into her cheeks.

Seemingly satisfied at this new revelation, the newly bought slave grins. “It will be an honor, master.”

The beautiful young girl stares after her retreating form, her departure causing Mulan’s stomach to cease churning.

_She is peculiar,_ she thinks boldly, wondering as to why she had taken such a strong interest in this odd woman.

Her beauty-while great, is not enviable. Her body has softened out, and her skin no longer has a radiant glow to it, yet Mulan feels drawn to her all the same.

She wonders vaguely if she thinks about this woman in comparison to her husband. Yet the fire in her belly was not relatable to the one her lord was capable of igniting in her. A thought that makes Mulan heedy.

She had more than once caught some of the General’s women doing things of a curious nature to each other, acts that cause Mulan to blush and sputter. _No, that is not what I want from her._

Yet even after disclosing these notations, she finds herself unable to grasp onto any suitable answers.

_Why then, was this slave so different?_

\--oOo—

The General is the first to be summoned by the emperor. He is no longer a dashing young hero, but he is wise and skilled all the same. He is to be leading one of the larger armies against the Huns, and has but a single day to prepare himself for the journey.

The women of the courts cry dramatically at his departure, smothering his face in kisses, before helping him adorn his armor. He waves off their concerns, promising to have defeated those, “Inbred bastards,” in but a few weeks.

He makes it but a week before his entire force is ambushed. He survives, but barely. His face is now scarred down the sides, and his left eye has also been gauged out. Yet these seem to bother him but a little. The great General is no more, his last battle will now be known as failure, an incompetence of the family line.

Now every time Mulan encounters him, she is wafted into an array of opium. She still spies him taking a different woman into his bed every night, although it is now only the girls he takes to. The older mistresses seemingly forgotten, much to their panic. No longer is heavy jewelry embroidering their bodies, and it is but a short time before long they are merely slaves once more.

Mulan does little to hide her smirk.

Then, it is but another week before Shang is called out to battle. He will be a captain, and Mulan can’t help but to smile at the proud look on his face due to the announcement. He too, has but a day to prepare himself.

His sword has been neatly sharpened, gleaming dangerously throughout the room. The raven haired girl has the urge to run her finger alongside the sharp blade, but manages to refrain from the temptation.  She watches in awe as his new armor is brought out, and dismisses the nearby slaves in order to help suit him up herself.  

He is surprised at her action, but pleased none the less.

“Will you miss me?” He asks quietly.

Mulan hands him his helmet, before turning to stare at him quizzically. “Does not every woman wish for her husband’s safe return?”

His hands clutch the helmet tightly, fingers now smudging the once polished surface. “I know not the answer to that, nor do I care. It is but your response that matters to me the most.”

He stares at her heatedly, his gaze desperately flicking over her motionless form. “Of course I will miss you, you are a good husband,” she whispers, and it is the truth.

He smiles at her simple answer, some of the tension in his shoulders fleeing. “I will miss you as well, Fa Mulan, you too are a good wife to me.”

The beautiful young girl smiles at him shyly, unsure of how to respond.

He sighs as the time for his departure grows nearer, absently gazing at his young wife before him. “It will be hard I think, to leave you,” he states, before reaching over to grab Mulan’s small hand.

Mulan, now somewhat used to his touches, clutches him back tightly.

They have but a few more minutes left, when an idea enters Mulan’s head. Letting go of her weary husband’s hand, she reaches out towards one of the intricate tables. Lifting the lid, she is pleased to find the item she is looking for. It is a simple scroll, with only gold paint decorating the sides, but she thinks her husband will appreciate it all the more.

Walking back over to where he is sitting, she hands him the object. “I think you will have enough room to carry this.”

Confused, he unrolls the scroll, and it is but a second before a large smile is dancing across his handsome face.

It is the portrait of her. The one her parents had sent to the General. Shang had been enamored by her appearance, and softly confessed to having kept the painting of her in one of his tables. Mulan felt some warmth in her belly due to the memory.

He carefully rolls the scroll back up, before turning to cusp her face gently. “I will come back to you, my gem,” he promises, before moving to press his lips firmly against her own.

The kiss is not chase, yet it is not born of heavy lust either. It is a kiss of promise, and Mulan thinks it to be the sweetest kiss that they have shared so far.

Finally, after they have no more time together, Shang makes his leave. He hugs his glassy eyed father loosely, before making his way into his mother’s private chambers, undoubtedly saying a more personal good bye.

He casts a few more lingering looks her way afterwards, before he goes to mount his horse, and be on his way.

Mulan sniffs at his retreating figure, before stepping back inside towards the Koi pond, not even surprised what she hears the quiet slither of her friend coming up beside her.

“You alright?” He asks, his clever eyes taking in her hunched form.

Mulan tries to lie, but her throat feels choked, and nothing she does can manage to keep the tears from budding in her eyes.

“Hey now girl, don’t cry,” he tries desperately, using one of his scaled hands in order to pat her back affectionately. “I’ve seen that husband of yours, he’s gonna’ be fine.”

The almond eyed girl laughs shakily, although her distress is still here. “But what if he is not? What will I do then?”

“Mulan,” he tries again, the name sounding oddly soothing from his usually biting words. “Shang too, has a guardian, and while he may not be watching out for him so… _literally,_ he’ll be watching out for him all the same. The Gods don’t punish those who have done nothing wrong.”

She sniffs again, “I hope you are right, my great dragon,” she teases lightly.

Mushu snorts, letting out a billow of smoke in his wake. “You got it, sweet cakes.”

\--oOo—

Mulan is reading a letter from her Lord husband when she hears the gates out front groaning.

Worried, she quickly conceals the letter before exciting out into the yards, where a number of other girls have gathered. “What is going on?” She demands angrily.

The girls before her are cowered, their usually lose tongues seemingly tied, and it takes the strength of her hardest glare in order to get one of them to speak. “Mistress! They are here!”

 “Have you no thought, slave? _Who_ is here?”

“The Huns!” She wails frightfully, “Some men have split from the main ones it seems, and now our demise is upon us!”

Fear now flowing freely through Mulan’s blood at the declaration, she hurries past the weeping servant and back into the courts.

“Mushu!” She calls manically, “Come my great guardian, and protect me!”

Her voice echoes around her, and the scared girl is to believe that her cries fall on deaf ears. She can hear the gates screeching painfully now, and she knows it is but perhaps a few minutes until the last of their strength leaves them.

“Mulan!” A voice calls, and the girl in question nearly weeps in happiness at the sound. “You gotta hide if you wanna’ live!-Follow me!”

The raven haired girl knows that a man would have run towards the gates and fought; fore never would he let his last moments be one of cowardice. But Mulan is no man, and she cares naught about running from something if it means she might be capable of saving herself.

She follows after the lithe little dragon, who seems to know the halls better than she, despite that fact she has been living here longer. He twists corner of corner, and it is all Mulan can do to merely keep sight of him.

Finally he stops before a large red door, simple in design, yet bold in its presence. “I have not seen this door before,” she murmurs, her fear momentarily forgotten.

Mushu however-hasn’t, and he beckons her closer still. “Inside!” He hisses, slit eyes searching wearily for any oncoming men.

Breaking out of her ill- timed curiosity, Mulan does as he bides her, and hurriedly moves to pry the great door open, marveling at the weight of it.

Breathlessly, she and Mushu slide inside, bolting the door behind them in their wake. Once her breath is somewhat steady again, she takes a moment to glance around at her surroundings, brows furrowing in confusion over the plain room.

The room is small, perhaps a quarter the size of her own chamber, and simple blankets litter the ground, although anything other than the bare necessities seems to be scarce. Carefully, the black haired beauty searches for any source of wealth or beauty, but comes up short.

“It is strange, for a room as simple as this to be a part of such a grand home. Fore what is its purpose?” She wonders, hesitantly picking up a grey blanket before discarding it once more.

“To house the slaves,” Mushu murmured, “Not all of them warm the General’s bed at night, you know.”

Mulan nodded, although she hadn’t known that. The General’s actions were foreign to her, and she tried not to notice them if possible. She often wondered how such a dishonorable man could have a son as wonderful as Shang. Fore her seemingly gentle husband had yet to raise his hand to her, or even his voice for that matter. Yet it was not uncommon to see his whores with bruises along their arms, faces swollen and disfigured.

Mulan shuddered.

“I hope they simply take your jewels and leave,” her red scaled companion mutters, ear now glued to the door. “They can’t possibly have the time to lounge here. The emperor’s forces are growing stronger each moment.”

The frightened girl wonders how he could possibly know this, but decides not to question him none the less. She too leans her ear against the door, listening to the sound of muffled cries and grunting men.

She swallows harshly, her mouth now seemingly dry, and she can’t help but to wonder what is happening alongside the other parts of the courts. Are the slaves being raped and beaten? Captured, perhaps. Are they stuffing their satchels with jewels? Gorging themselves on rich food? Fore what did such beastly men want from them?

_I should think everything, if they find themselves able,_ she thinks woefully.

Her breath hitches as she hears the tell-tale sound of a man scuffling down the hallway, his steps loud and heavy. He’s humming to himself, and while Mulan has always favored music, she now thinks the sound grating.

He jingles as he walks, and Mulan desperately wishes for Mushu to be right.

_May they take every Jewel they want, so long as they leave us be._

His footsteps start to slow the nearer he approaches, and it is but a moment until the door starts to rattle. Hesitantly at first, before its tremors grow more forceful, the purpose now clear.

“Someone hiding in there?” An oily voice asks. “Just open the door, I just want to talk to ya’, you don’t have to be afraid,” he mocks humorously.

The rattling intensifies.

Mulan glances sorrowfully at her guardian, eyes wide and watery. “What do we do?” She whispers, voice catching.

Mushu turns to glance around the room widely, scuttling to and fro in search of something. Finally he appears before her once more, a single chipped plate in hand. “This is all there is,” he mutters bitterly, “But at least it’s something. Just follow my lead, okay?”

He hands the plate over to her, and Mulan grasps it loosely between her numb hands. She eyes the object critically. _What will a single plate do against a beast such as that behind the door?_

She doesn’t have time to ponder however, as the hinges that binds the door begins to squeak piercingly. Filled with dread, she moves to glance at her companion once more, only to find the spot empty to where he once stood.

_Or was he even here at all?_ She thinks hysterically, watching as the door begins to open. _Perhaps he is borne only out of fear, and now I must be alone once more to meet my end._

An arm appears from around the now small opening. Grubby fingers pawing at the open air.

_Mourn me, my dear Husband, I pray my body will be recognizable when you return._

A body slides into view.

He is not terribly tall, but his back is as broad as a small wall, his strength obvious even under his large armor. He slides his helmet off, and Mulan shuffles backwards as beady eyes and yellow teeth leer at her dangerously.

“You tryna’ hide from me little bird? Did I interrupt your cleaning or something?” He scoffs, eyeing her plate uninterestedly.

Mulan clutches it all the tighter, and keeps her mouth firmly shut.

He shuffles closer, boots scuffing the once spotless floor. “You mute, or just plain dumb?”

The dark haired beauty resolves to stay silent, not trusting herself not to openly weep if she does otherwise.

The beast of a man is now a few mere inches away from her face, sour breathing blowing warmly against her cheeks. “No matter, I like em’ quiet,” he murmurs, dirty brown fingers ghosting over the sash of her robe.

Now thoroughly panicked, Mulan abruptly shoves him roughly with all her strength, his body scooting away from her in surprise.  She hears a sharp pop as his ankle twists, and she spots a fire beneath his eyes as he glances at her once more. Only now those black eyes hold more fury than lust.

“You stupid bitch,” he spits, “You’re gonna’ pay for that!”

He shuffles awkwardly towards her, muttering curses under his breath all the while. And just as he is about to reach for her, Mulan spots a blur of red, and it is but a second until the Hun goes crashing to the floor, howling at the pain.

“What-” he starts, only to stop once he gets a clear view of Mushu standing before him, dark eyes now comically wide.

“Boo!” He shouts, his sharp tongue all but hissing the word. Only this time there is no humor in his expression- in contrast to how he surprised Mulan, his pointed face dark and murderous.

The Hun continues to stare, mouth gaping. “A talking lizard!”

Mulan’s guardian’s eyes flash dangerously. “Dragon,” he corrects flatly.

“D-D-Dragon!” The now terrified man stutters, as he vainly tries to scoot his crumpled body out of reach.

Mushu Tsk’s before blowing a stream of fire at Mulan’s attacker’s leg, effectively cutting off the man’s escape- due to the skin turning an angry red. Mulan feels her stomach churn at the sight of the charred and blistering flesh.

The stench of burnt skin fills the air, and nothing can hold back Mulan’s gagging.

“Now, now, now. What kind of hosts would we be if we let you leave so early, we wouldn’t want to be rude, would we Mulan?” The infuriated dragon mocks, eyeing Mulan and her plate sideways.

The girl in question can only nod stiffly, slowly bringing her body closer.

The pained Hun starts to mutter incoherently, his eyes blurring from the pain. Mulan watches as Mushu glances from the plate she’s holding, to the man’s reddened face, and she suddenly understands.

Heart beating rapidly beneath her chest, Mulan slowly stalks before the man, taking in his pained expression and broken body.

_You are not so bold now,_ she thinks spitefully, looking down at the man who had the intentions of hurting, or perhaps even killing her.

Fire fills her veins, and in hot blazing anger, she slams the plate down forcefully over his head.

It shatters upon impact.

Mulan watches as his face lolls down, eyes rolling to the back of his head. Fragments of the plate are embedded into his skin, causing little red droplets to fall to the floor.

The color is the same as the scales that coat Mushu’s body.

Mulan backs away in horror.

“Did I kill him?” She whispers hoarsely. She had never so much as killed a bug, and now she finds herself the murderer of a man?

_It cannot be._

Mushu simply looks away. “We are in a War Mulan, these things are inevitable. It was either him, or you. And as your guardian, I’d do _anything_ to prevent it from being you,” he promises, voice strong and sure.

He turn’s his head towards her once more, slit eyes softening. “I have failed your family before Mulan, I will not allow myself to do it again.”

Mulan simply swallows, unsure of what to speak.

“I did not mean to kill him,” she answers brokenly.

It is not the truth.


	4. Chapter 4

Mulan and Mushu were not further bothered, save the ripening stench of the corpse, and the raven haired beauty was anxious to move somewhere elsewhere. She could hear the Huns drunken ramblings in the distance, and she prayed reverently for the state of slumber to quiet them.

“The smell is becoming intolerable,” she muttered crossly, her grievous state having now fled. The midday heat had hit them, and the small room held not even a single window in order to give them some relief.

Mushu eyed the dead man’s body with contempt, he felt no lost love for the fallen soldier, and he too was wanting to leave sight of it. He tore his slit eyes away from the rancid being.

“They’re still drinking, they say the Hun’s have endless stomachs. It is still not safe Mulan,” he accessed quietly. He had found confidence in the terror he had brought to his victims eyes, but he was doubtful that a bunch of alcohol ridden soldiers would be brought to their knees as well.

_When am I ever safe?_ The brown eyed girl thought spitefully.

Moving a damp strand of hair from her forehead, Mulan was tempted to shear it the next chance she got. Now however, she settled for simply wrapping it up off her face. Curious, she grabbed a shard of glass from off the floor, and tilted it forward experimentally. She frowned as her melting face looked back at her.

“I look as though I were a boy,” she observed unhappily. Her face paint had cracked, while her eyes had smeared. Dismayed, she grabbed a nearby blanket and wiped her face roughly, until her ruined makeup no longer plagued her.

“That’s it!” Mushu yelled triumphantly. He scuttled over to Mulan quickly, taking her face into his hands and eyeing it critically. “You do look like a boy!”

“Says the talking lizard,” the almond eyed girl protested.

Said dragon waved off her insult carelessly, “This is a good thing sweet-cakes! We can disguise you as a soldier,” he planned, grinning cheekily at the newfound revelation.

Mulan slapped his hands away. “You truly are mad. I am a highborn lady, not some simple farm hand. Why would I care to disguise myself as such?”

Her red scaled companion rolled his eyes at her daftness, “If we can disguise you, we can get you out of here.”

A troubled crease formed between Mulan’s thin brows, “And where exactly shall I go?”

_Mother would die of fright if I were to come to her as a man. Father too would reject me._

The black haired beauty shook her head firmly. “There is nowhere to go dragon. We would do best to stay put.”

_Even if I were to go out and hide my true gender, what difference would be made? The Huns are Savages, they care not for such matters._

Mushu merely huffed, “You would disguise yourself using one of _their_ armors Mulan. Even the Huns don’t strike their own.” _Or so he hoped._

Growing nervous, the almond eyed girl eyed the smelling corpse once more. “I don’t know Mushu…what shall I do once they spot me? I know not the ways of men!” _Except that they are beastly, of course._

Shaking off her fears, the tiny guardian slithered over towards their now dead attacker, pulling away the knots that held his armor in place. Grunting, he managed to slide off his chest plate, before moving diligently onto his leg guards next.

“Don’t worry about it Mulan, just grunt and steal something. The Huns aren’t exactly known for their brains, you know,” he offered, grinning in triumph once he managed to unlatch the man’s sword holder.

Pleased at his work, the red dragon beckoned Mulan over, before ordering her to start dressing. Mulan made to do so warily, a sharp blush coating her cheeks once she noticed the dead Hun’s state of undress.

Rolling his eyes, Mushu haphazardly tossed a blanket over him, muttering under his breath over the absurdity of it.

Struggling under the weight of the gear, the fair skinned beauty somehow managed to get herself adorned, her shoulders shaking as Mushu started to tie the breast plates together. Once satisfied, he did the same for her legs, before shaking off her silk slippers, and sliding on the man’s heavy boots.

Once finished, Mushu stepped back to appraise her.

A fine sweat coating her brow, Mulan gasped out a worried, “How do I look?”

Mushu shrugged, “Not too bad if I say so myself. You might not want to speak though, seeing as the Hun’s men’s voices aren’t exactly effeminate.” _But then again, he doubts that any of the Hun’s soldiers are women in disguise…_

Mulan nodded, causing a tendril of black hair to fall into her eyes. Huffing, she managed to lift her arms enough in order to tuck it behind her ear, gesturing wordlessly towards the Hun’s discarded helmet that loitered the ground. Her scaled companion did as she bid him, before telling her to bend over, the weight nearly causing Mulan to face plant. Struggling to stay upright, her guardian was quick to slide the dented contraption over her head, tucking in any loose pieces of hair that had escaped it.

After he had finished capturing all the loose hairs, Mushu proceeded to slide the metal face plate down, satisfied at the sharp _clunk_ it made. “There, now no one will be the wiser of that pretty little face of yours. Just walk through the halls naturally, and hopefully they’ll leave you alone. After you get past them, head straight towards the stables, alright?”

Mulan made the affirmative, desperately trying to remember his plans. Moving towards the door, the armored beauty’s hand settled upon the hilt of the blunted sword at her side, the crass object giving her a sense of strength. Squaring her shoulders, she breathed deeply before entering out into the halls.

\--oOo—

She heard nothing upon entering, save the sound of Mushu’s ragged breaths upon her neck, and she allowed a small shrill of hope to flow through her. _Perhaps they have left already._

The feeling was quickly dashed however, due to a loud choir of drunken laughs.

Mulan grimaced, nothing good ever came from a man whose action’s he couldn’t control.

She held a glimmering bracelet loosely in one hand, which hopefully gave off the impression that she had been off looting. Stepping into the main courts, she involuntarily gasped at the sights before her.

Drunken men were seemingly everywhere, laughing loudly at one another’s crude sayings. Anything of value had been taken and hoarded, while her once beautiful koi pond had been decimated. The once golden fish bloating soundlessly at the top.

She searched to and fro for any of her maidens, and breathed out a breath of relief upon finding most of them gone. Only the general’s old mistresses were present, and Mulan felt a spark of anger flow through her body upon catching sight of them.

She glanced in horror at their open robes, watching as the older women smiled flirtatiously at the slurring men, gasping in mock outrage as the Hun’s continued to grope their bodies.

_Once a whore, always a whore,_ she thought cruelly, feeling her fingers itch alongside her blade. She pulled her fingers away roughly upon noticing. _I have never so much as even held a sword, let alone use one. I am more likely to do more harm to myself, than they themselves._

“Just keep moving,” Mushu murmured, his voice muffling into her neck.

Squashing down her anger, the disguised beauty winced as she stepped forwards. Her steps were hard and loud, and her ill fitted armor shifted uncomfortably with each movement. Biting her tongue in order to silence her displeasure, she had nearly exited the courts, only to be stopped by a gentle, yet firm hold around her arm.

Fear flooded her veins at the contact. _Please ancestors, hear my cries. Allow my dragon and I to pass freely, and I will burn incense to you every day, I swear to it._

Her eyes had squeezed shut during the prayer, and she opened them bitterly at her unanswered pleas. Swallowing roughly, she made to turn, wary of her intending demise, only to be met with a face she had not expected to see.

_It is the nameless slave that Shang has bought for me._

The woman’s small face was tilted curiously, yet the amused smirk to her lips was undeniable. Her robes too were open, yet she seemed to use her bareness as a shield, and for a moment, Mulan felt her breath leave her, instantly jealous of the strength this female carried.

“My lady?” She questioned softly, the gentle murmur nearly faint to her ears.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, the raven haired girl nodded mutely, wondering as to what had blown her cover. As if reading her thoughts, the slave smirked once more, “Your stance had an undeniable aura of haughtiness to it, I would recognize it anywhere,” she teased.

Mulan felt a deep flush pool into her cheeks, and she glared childishly at the woman, thankful of the helmet cloaking her embarrassment. “I am glad I amuse you,” she stated flatly, her annoyance clear. “Now tell me why you have rendered my escape slave, and I may just spare you if I make it out of here alive.”

The woman sobered up quickly, all traces of good humor fleeing. “Because my lady, despite this drunken lot, there are more men standing guard up front. They know this is the general’s court, and they are weary of an opposition.”

Mulan frowned, her almond eyes glancing over the slurring men coveting the room. “You do not think I could make it out?” She guessed, her answer proven correct due to the woman’s silence.

Lips pursing, she asked as to where the once great General _was._

The woman faltered once more, her eyes worrying over Mulan uneasily. “He has been made an example, my lady.”

“An example?” She whispered, her own unease growing. “What does that mean? Have they killed him?”

The slave nodded, the crinkles around her mouth deepening. “He has been…flayed, my lady.”

Mulan felt her stomach turn due to the notation, her thoughts turning back to the dead Hun’s charred flesh. “Did he suffer?”

_I pray I am not as cruel as these monsters, my attacker’s death was quick. I hope to find some redemption in my crime._

_“_ Yes my lady, if his screams were any indication. They had gutted him before having him flayed, yet he was still of awareness when he was ignited. I fear his cries will haunt me for the rest of my life,” she answered, her words stingingly truthful.

_Then perhaps I will be pardoned,_ she reasoned thoughtfully.

“And the lady of the house? Has she too been made an example?”

The black haired beauty prayed not. Her lord Husbands mother was a quiet woman, seemingly indifferent to the Generals indiscretions, and Mulan wished for no harm to come to her. Her Husband had already lost a father, and to his greatest enemy none the less, she wished not for him to grieve for his mother as well.

“No my lady, she is still safe in her chambers,” the older slave stated, causing a wave of relief to flow through Mulan’s body.

The armored beauty then made way to ask as to where the rest of the maidens were, but her jaws clamped shut instantly upon feeling the painful force of a strong hand gripping her shoulder.

“What’s the matter, boy? Never fucked a live one before?” Taunted the raspy voice of a Hun soldier, his onyx eyes glancing over Mulan’s small form briefly, his chapped lips curling in distaste.

The disguised girl could only swallow thickly, her throat closing in fright. Thankfully however, he seemed not to expect a response, instead going on as to bluntly ask how old he was. After all, “You look to be fresh off your mother’s teats.”

Clearing her throat, Mulan tried to make her voice as low as possible before answering, her soft murmur barely heard over the rest of the army’s howling. “Eighteen summer’s sir,” she lied smoothly, pleasantly surprised at the tone of her voice.

He cocked an eyebrow at her declaration, disbelief etched onto his crude features. “You sound a bit young to be a man fully grown,” He accused, his expression almost daring her to lie to him again.

Mulan, not wishing to be the brunt of his ire, meekly confessed to being only sixteen, sweating profusely all the while.

The Hun laughed loudly at her confession, spittle flying from his lips. “That’s what I thought lad. Don’t worry, I too wanted a taste of glory at that age, and what better way then as to compete in a war, eh?”

The disguised maiden laughed along awkwardly with him, wondering what his response would be if he learned just what side of the war she was on. Luckily, the man seemed to be well within his cups, wine dribbling down his chin as he took another gulp, and the young girl could sense his suspiciousness fading with every drop.

After finishing his cup, he turned around as though searching for more, his movements stumbling. Thankfully, his distracted state allowed Mulan the time she needed to sneak away, the quick movements causing her armor to rub her raw.

Hissing, the black haired beauty searched for the slave she had been previously talking to, whom Mulan assumed had slipped away during her conversation. Trying to search for her as inconspicuously as possible, she was saved the trouble due to a slick voice whispering into her ear.

“There, by the doorway,” Mushu indicated, the sound of his voice startling Mulan from her scouring. Responding with a soft _thanks,_ the young girl swiftly made her way towards the bare breasted woman.

After she had approached the woman once more, the slave spared her but a glance before hurrying out back into the hall, confused; Mulan dazedly followed suit. Her metal chest plate seemed to echo in the spacious corridor, and the almond eyed beauty hoped that the Hun’s were too intoxicated to bother inspecting the noise. Feeling comfortable once she had suspected that they weren’t being tailed, Mulan warily questioned the woman’s motives.

“And just where are you leading me?”

The slave in turn seemed unconcerned by the question, instead hurrying her gait to an even faster pace. “Somewhere safe,” she answered dismissively, her voice nearly lost as she turned a corner.

Mulan, hastily trying to match the woman’s stride, was not so easily placated. “And if there was such a place, then why are you not in it?”

The slave turned her heard towards her at the question, her hooded eyes betraying her displeasure at the array of questions. “Because I suspected that if _I_ were in it, _you_ wouldn’t be. I’m well aware of how close you and the Masters’ chambers are to the front gates, and I was proven right in assuming that you would be unable to make it out unscathed.”

Head cocked in confusion, the young girl could not keep her tongue silent. “You have risked your life in order to save mine?”

“Yes,” she snapped shortly, closing and tying her robes as if she too had just remembered what she had sacrificed.

Mulan, not wishing to seem ungrateful, was sure to express her gratitude. “I offer you my thanks my lady, for I suspect that none other would have taken the risk.”

Smirking humorlessly, the slave spoke once more, “I accept your thanks mistress, but I do feel the need to inform you than _I_ am not a lady,” she reminded Mulan, her voice dry.

This time it was the disguised girl’s turn to smirk, though the effect was hidden under her helmet. “And I am certainly no Hun, but appearances can be deceiving,” she chuckled, hoping for her tone to portray her amusement.

Fortunately, it did, thus causing the slave to look her over once more, her gaze seemingly thoughtful. “Yes my lady, so it would seem.”

\--oOo—

They had ended up stopping short of Shang’s mother’s chambers, the door just as richly decorative as the rest of the courts. Perplexed, Mulan was unsure of how the Hun’s would be _unable_ to miss it.

As if reading her thoughts, the slave pushed open the large door, and the sight that greeted Mulan was a scene that she vaguely suspected. Tables were thrown over, silks ripped, and the room looked to be just as demolished as the rest of the drunken army’s workings. However, the Lady of the room herself was nowhere in sight.

“I thought you said that she was safe!” She demanded, before locking her accusing gaze back onto the offender.

The slave proceeded to ignore her angry stance, and instead pushed away a tall mirror that had somehow remained upright. Upon the removal of it, Mulan was shocked to see another, albeit smaller door.

“And that she is,” she soothed, “And so will you be if you stop questioning me and proceed to follow suit.”

Sheepishly, the raven haired beauty nodded, before watching as the woman pushed back the handle and made her way in. Immediately, the small murmur that Mulan initially heard died down, although it was quick to pick up once they spotted who the intruder was.

“Chen! You are back, have the courts been cleared yet?” A young voice questioned, and Mulan frowned as she wondered just how young some of the maidens that the General bought _were_.

Scowling, Chen shook her head, the dim light of the chamber reflecting off the fine silver pieces that were streamed throughout her hair.  “No my dear, but I have found the mistress, and thankfully she is unharmed.”

Now having glanced back, Mulan took that as her cue to enter. Gasps immediately sounded due to her appearance, and the armored girl watched as the young maidens proceeded to cower back in fear.

“Hush now you silly fools, are you truly so simple? Chen has just announced that she found my son’s wife, and surely even you girls can tell that she is in disguise,” a mature voice reprimanded, and Mulan couldn’t help but to peek through her helm fold at her mother in law, thankful to see that she appeared to be in no worse for wear.

“She is right,” Mulan confirmed, making sure that Mushu had slithered down her back before pulling off her helmet. “It is me.”

The girls relaxed noticeably at this, although some seemed embarrassed due to their daftness.

Breathing in the cool air deeply, she was pleasantly surprised when the older woman spoke once more. “Now are you to leave her to roast? Help her out of her armor!” She demanded, her voice having now gone cross.

The young servants, not wanting to displease their lady any further, quickly scrambled over to the sweating girl, their nimble fingers tussling with the knots.

Thankfully, Mushu seemed to think ahead, for now he slithered into Mulan’s robes, his cool claws upon her bare shoulders causing Mulan to grimace. And although the sweating beauty was somewhat uncomfortable with the act, she knew that her dragon was honorable, and had but no other choice.

However, with these young maidens being unused to such armory, it had taken the servants longer than Mulan would have liked for them to slide her out of it as a whole. Now, with her feet bare, hair tangled, and body sweating, she was quick to believe that she had somehow looked even worse than before.

“Thank you,” she muttered, not bothering to sound appreciative in the least. Having nearly died numerous times today, the almond eyed girl was sure that she could afford to be lacking in mannerisms.

The girls in turn just bowed before her, and the tiniest one, whom Mulan guessed to be the one to have spoken earlier, made way to do so again, although she was quickly silenced by the sound of someone bursting into the main foyer.

Now they were all truly nervous, for whoever was in the room was sure to be a Hun. Breath held, Mulan closed her eyes as she heard someone approach the door. Cursing the gods for their cruel tricks, she felt Mushu tense beneath her, and could only watch with ongoing horror as the door burst open.

Revealing the face of none other than,

“Mulan?”-

-Her husband.


	5. Chapter 5

Mulan does not come to her husband at first.

Instead, she clasps her hands together fearfully, the neatly trimmed digits leaving small crescents in their wake.

Before her is not the same man in which she had bid farewell to but a few weeks prior, but instead the hardened face of a Captain that has seen too much, and holds patience for too little.

His tall form is encased in armor that no longer shines; with deep scratches and smudge marks coating nearly every visible surface. Only his helmet shines throughout the room, the silver metal clenched firmly beneath her husband's forearm.

She keeps her eyes hooded as she peeks upon his face, an image that causes fierce tremors to pour throughout her spine. The once warm brown eyes that had glanced upon her so lovingly before, seem to no longer. Instead, his icy gaze seems to root her to the spot, and she wishes for him to cover his expressions once more, if only to shield her from the unease that is swirling within her stomach.

He does not seem to know that he is frightening her, or perhaps he does not care. Either way, he is in no mood to tolerate her disobedience, and for the first time in her marriage, Mulan comes to wonder as to whether or not she will be punished for such insolence.

"Mulan," he starts again, his usually gentle voice seemingly clipped. "Come."

She hesitates once more, before slowly making her way back towards her Lord Husband, her bare feet ghosting silently alongside the floor.

His eyes glance over her roughened appearance, lips pursing into a scowl. When she finally reaches his side, she bows before him, trying to make herself seem as small as possible. He releases her quickly enough, before catching her wrist in his grasp, his calloused fingers squeezing her bones almost uncomfortably so.

He pays the other slaves and his mother but a glance before ordering for them to clean up, and then without another word, he is all but dragging her out of the room.

He says nothing about the reckoned hall in which they pass, seemingly ignoring the broken paintings and stolen jewels. Nor does he ask about his father, whose body he was sure to have seen before entering the courts.

Instead he leads her into their chambers, the one that they have not shared since her lord husband has departed. Only once the door is shut does he release his grip, and Mulan does not miss the red fingerprints that linger.

She brings her own fingers to the spot, before rubbing the angry looking mark gingerly, in the vain hope that she could perhaps prevent any further swelling.

Her husband paces the room as she rubs, and the beautiful young girl can practically see his ire. She has never seen her Lord angry before, and she comes to think that it is not an act in which she would like to be privilege too.

Only once her pain is but a dull ache does he speak.

"What has happened here?" He snaps, anger still rolling off of him in waves.

Mulan swallows, before starting unsurely, "It was the Huns my husband…surely you have seen them?"

He looks at her as though she is daft. "Yes, fore who else would slay ones father before leaving him out to rot, as though he were nothing more than a slaughtered pig."

Mulan fidgets uncomfortably.

"I came home expecting to find some comfort, and a wife whose stomach has started to swell. Yet instead I find both empty. Do you not know the shame I felt when I led my soldiers to an empty house? When I discovered what the Huns had done? My soldiers had to room elsewhere, for what good was a general who could not house them?" He spits bitterly, his face twisting into a scowl.

"My father built the fortunes of this house, and now he is dead, and the house decimated. Our jewels are gone and our food has been eaten. We are not a great family any longer. It is but the God's intervention that the Emperor had sent us out on leave. Fore without it, I fear what else may have happened in my absence."

He has stopped walking in his tirade, and instead clutches his hands behind his back, as though to prevent himself from lashing out.

"Now I must try to restore my family's name to its former glory. That is a job for three sons, but instead there is only me. I must cut our expenses and tend to our fields. And if the Emperor calls me again? Then I do not know what I shall do."

He turns to her then, eyeing her disheveled appearance once more.

"You are lucky you are beautiful, even when you look as though you were but a peasant. Had your face not enticed me, I fear it would be you thrown out on the street for failing to give me a son. But your are lucky, fore during my travels, there was not a single girl whose beauty could outshine your own."

Mulan says nothing during his declarations, choosing to remain quiet least he finds her beauty to be deemed worthless. Mulan may be beautiful, but they were many pretty girls that could still tempt her husband, and birth him many a babe too. It is during her husband's tirade that Mushu slips beneath her robes and exits the room, perhaps not wanting to intrude upon her privacy.

"Beauty is all the richness that I have now, and I will be getting rid of anything or anyone that fails to have any of it. Come now Mulan, fore I will get rid of my father's fools while my ire still allows me."

Mulan dutifully followed behind the man who was now but a stranger to her. Never before had her husband talked to her with contempt, and now he seemed to be dripping with it.

But still she followed, as there was nothing else that she could do.

True to his word he rounded up all of the general's old concubines, and set to work on giving them verbal lashings. "I should have you all beaten for serving the Huns under my own house. But even at my most angry I am not that cruel. Stand before me now, and those whose fairness has left them will be sent to work out in the fields."

The women before him gasped at this, seeing as they have never worked a day outside in their lives. With their soft hands and feet, the workings were sure to be miserable.

"Untie your robes as you have done for me when I was younger, and I will see if your days of worth are behind you."

Most proceeded to do so without a complaint, save the few whose bodies had grown soft and wrinkled.

He eyed them all critically, before announcing his displeasures. "Looking at you, one would think that you are the women of a common man, and not of one who has land in which he hires men to plow!"

They cowered at his harsh words, and shame flooded their faces.

And it seemed to Shang for the first time in his life that these were simple beings, ones that were dull and pleaded around without thought. He saw that their hair had grown dull, and their fatness had made their faces flatten, and no more could he find any beauty in them.

It is then that he remembered the jewels that he had given to them when he was but a young boy, eyes full of lust and heart full of love. They hid them between their breasts, and now he thought of them with contempt, fore their breasts were no longer plump, and jewels between them were foolish and a waste.

But he flung himself off, because he was ashamed that he was angry at them, and angry at himself for feeling this way at all. "I can think of no man that would find pleasure with any of you any longer, so now it is time to for you to earn your keep elsewhere. Tomorrow you shall start to work within the fields."

But still they did not defy him, their pouting lips being the only signs of their displeasure.

He turned his eyes back to his wife once more, and took comfort in her beauty. Fore she was a small, slender thing, with a face as pointed as a kitten. And as he stared at her, a heat poured through his veins, and he could not remember why he was angry with her before.

Feeling sorry for his sweet tempered wife, he promised himself to buy her some sugar and oil in the hopes that she would feel no ill-intent towards him.

Beckoning her closer, he smiled at her, one in which she hesitantly returned, and only then did his ire cool.

-oOo—

Mulan was confused when the gentleness of her husband returned, but she was glad of its coming. As he now kissed her sweetly and clutched her hands as though she were more precious to him than anything else in the world.

But no longer did he sip tea with her, but instead set himself to work out in the fields with his servants. He put his hoe upon his shoulder, and he walked to his plots of land and cultivated the rows of grain. Then he would return for a meal, and Mulan would wipe the dust of his face, and then he would go out once more.

His hard worked seemed to have paid off, as Mulan would sometimes watch him work beneath the shade of a tree, and even she who knew little of farming could tell that the Earth was dark and rich.

And soon her husband would come to her with a hand heavy of coins, and allow her to try and restore his home to some of its previous glory.

It is during one of these days that she places the coins back into her husband's hands, "Go buy some incense my Lord, and be sure to place them at the alters of the Gods, as we don't want the Spirits to ruin our happiness."

And he did so, inwardly praising the cleverness of his little wife. It was well known that an angry god was a malicious one, and Shang needed all the favor in which he could get.

All too soon winter came, but Li Shang was prepared for it. There had never been such a prosperous harvest, and the rooms of the house were soon bursting with food. He would keep most of it to feed his family and the slaves, but he would save some to be sold when the snow hit the ground, a time in which people would pay anything for a meal.

And so while others chewed on dried beans to fight off their hunger during the cold months, Shang and his family would eat noodles and salted pork until their stomachs bloated, a feeling of ease nestling between their ribs.

Then, when no longer could the peasants stand the pain of hunger, he would sell his extra goods at triple the price, his pockets dragging with the weight of coin.

"No more shall we be left wanting my little wife," he murmured to Mulan contentedly, his hands idly touching the smooth planes of her face.

And in that moment, with his belly full and his wife beautiful, no longer did the worries of a son plague his mind.

-oOo—

Mulan once again grew feverish for the riches that she had shortly been without. No longer did the fearful girl take her place, but instead the spoiled one who craved exotic foods and sweet oils. Who let her husband kiss her sweetly before demanding a new prize, and who pouted most enchantingly lest there be a chance of her request being denied.

With her husband home and handsome, she no longer worried about being an old maid, and hardly thought of her husband at all unless it was to ask for coin.

Instead she napped most of the day, and took sweet smelling baths surrounded by the young girls that the General had purchased months earlier, basking in the compliments in which they threw her way.

Fore she was young, and beautiful, and pampered, and thought not of the trials in which she had once endured.

It is only when her old plain servant yanks sorely upon her hair, in which Mulan thinks of something other than her desires. "Careful slave! You are being rough today, perhaps your hands are failing you in your old age, since you do not have the same skill in which you used to."

But the slave said nothing and merely pulled again, stopping only when the young girl pulled her head away and glared at her searchingly. "Are you deaf now too? I said that you are being too rough slave!"

The slave laughed boldly before answering dismissively, "I am neither deaf nor as old as you would like to believe. I am merely trying to scatter some thoughts around in that empty brain of yours."

Mulan huffed, not finding any humor in the ramblings of her old servant. More and more had the old woman been sprouting out such nonsense, fore surely a brain had to have thoughts!

"I will not remind you again slave. Show more patience, before I have you thrown out into the fields with the rest of those who are old and useless," she sneered, an ugly anger coiling its way within her veins.

The woman shrugged off the threat, "And what will it matter to me? I should think myself glad to no longer be subject to the catering of your every whim and desire."

Bright red spots made their way into Mulan's pale cheeks, easily overshadowing the rouge that had already been placed. "You are a slave, you are meant to cater to whatever I desire."

The brown skinned servant clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "And you are the woman of the house, yet I do not see you doing any of your womanly duties."

Mulan flinched, thinking only of her failings of giving her husband a son, but the woman's tirade held no mentioning of babies. "You do not check to see if the floors are swept or if your husband's clothes need mending. You do not mention any of these things to us slaves. Instead you sleep as though you were a babe, and leave us to figure out what needs to be done. This is not how the woman of the house should act."

The brown eyed beauty wanted to argue, scold, perhaps even the slap the slave for talking to her so. But still she felt shaken. Even her lovely sharp tongued mother checked on the daily workings of the court, and said woman tended not to lift if she did not have to.

Embarrassed, and feeling as though she was none more than a child, she sent the woman away from her and sulked. Had she not done enough? She stood by her husband when his temper used to flare, when coin was few, and robes had to be re-worn. She watched as her husband worked as though he were a peasant, and wiped away the grime that had been smeared into his sun darkened face.

Her mother had not had to do these things, and would surely be outraged had she learned what her daughter had once been reduced to. Did she not deserve the repayment?

Her husband comes to her when she is frowning, kissing away the pucker within her brow. "What is troubling you, my sweet? Fore I cannot stand to see you unhappy."

Mulan turns to him, images of new cloths and perfumes coming to mind, but still she does not answer. Last time she was given such gifts, she felt no happier than she had been when she demanded them.

Instead she smiles at him, her loveliness nearly stealing his breath away. "Nothing my lord, I have simply missed you is all."

She hasn't truly, but the smile in which he gives her crinkles his eyes, and Mulan does come to wonder as to why she does not seek him out more often.

He kisses her again, this time firmly upon her lips and answers, "I too miss you when you are not around. It is hard for me to steal you away from your women," he adds, if not a touch bitterly.

His young wife frowns, wondering briefly as to what other duties she had been neglecting. She no longer walks in the gardens with her husband as often as she did before, and claims fatigue to get out of her other womanly duties as well.

"I am sorry," she apologizes, grabbing her husbands hand and smoothing out the tension as she had done before. "You are too good for me," she adds coyly, turning her head away as though in distress.

"Bah," he grunts, "It is I who foolishly wishes to occupy all of your time."

But still Mulan turns towards him again, snaking her fingers around his jaw as though to comfort him. "Fret not my dear husband, as from now on I shall always come to you when you call for me."

And true to her word, she did. She ate all of her meals with him, and walked with him, and simply kissed him when she thought he was being sweet. And no longer did the bitterness burn within her husband's heart, but instead the gentleness that she had been met with when they were still but newlyweds.

And no longer did she allow the slaves to run the household, but instead she awoke early and checked what needed to be done before directing them to their stations.

She checked to make sure of which floors needed to be cleaned, and what garments needed mending, and falls to sleep untroubled.

The next time she had her hair combed and oiled, the hands upon her head were gentle and calming, massaging the strands as though they were silk. "I will not send you out to the fields yet," Mulan murmured, her voice thick with content.

"I do not think you will ever," the slave returned, and for once, Mulan did not disagree.


End file.
